


Bad Hair Day

by lecornergirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecornergirl/pseuds/lecornergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Lily thought it was just going to be an ordinary bad hair day, she was very wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Hair Day

**Author's Note:**

> Again, author repost, not plagiarism.

I'm having a bad hair day.

A Very Bad Hair Day – so bad, in fact, that it has to be referred to in capital letters.

Now, I don't often consider myself as having bad hair days – my hair is long, red and curly, so that taming it is often out of the question. But it rarely looks anything like this: flying all over the place in a mass of ginger frizz, making my head look twice as big as it usually is. Had I only been able to wash it, the situation would have been much better... but this morning, I overslept.

It's probably the first time that I've ever overslept, at least at school – and it's all James Potter's fault, I think viciously as I attempt to drag my hairbrush through the flaming mess. Stupid James Potter with his stupid attempt at stupid conversation and stupid stupid stupid! Though I have to admit, it was quasi-interesting to find out all that stuff about him. It's almost like I know him now. But I most definitely don't know him well enough for him to be the cause for my oversleeping. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did I ever stay up past three in the morning and talk to him? I could have lived without knowing that his mother's middle name is Marianne and that he named his childhood cat after some Babbity in some wizarding fairy tale. Stupid. And now I have exactly three minutes before I've decided I absolutely have to be at breakfast so as not to starve half-way through History. Merlin, I hate History. Stupid Binns and his stupid ghostly self and stupid! Ugh. Maybe I'll just leave my hair as it is – there's probably nothing I can do for it any more. Damn. I'll make sure to tell James Stupid Potter that it's all his stupid fault.

–––––

The Great Hall is obviously crowded – it's prime breakfast time, after all. With fifteen minutes until lessons begin, this is when most people deign to drag their sorry behinds down to shovel in food or maybe just lounge around at the tables doing their homework and taking up as much space as possible, exactly like Mr Stupid and his stupid Marauder sidekicks are doing at this exact moment. Screw them. I try and find a place as far away as possible from them, but as soon as I plonk down somewhere, James is there next to me. Can that idiot never leave me alone?

"This is all your stupid fault," I inform him, pointing at my disaster of hair. "You and your stupid talks and keeping me up till three, you made me bloody oversleep! I never oversleep.Never."

"Well, apparently now you do," he says with a grin. "And I happen to like your hair like that. It looks more... you."

"You do?" I ask, incredulous. My hair hasn't been this out-of-control since before Hogwarts, when I once refused to brush it for a week just to see what would happen. I had to chop it all off. I looked like a boy for months. "No one's ever said they like my hair before... and now I sound like my life's ambition is to have someone tell me they like my hair. God, Lily, shut up already, will you? And now I'm talking to myself. Brilliant, just brilliant."

James cracks up. I swear, there is no other word for it – one minute he's sitting there, looking at me with this kinda concerned expression, like maybe I need medical attention? And the next he's laughing harder than I've ever seen him laugh before – and I've seen him laugh. A lot. Like, say, every single class we have together. The boy can laugh, let that be said for him. So I let him laugh for a while.

"You," he says after a minute or so, still laughing, "are something else, Lily Evans."

"I see. And is that... is that a good thing, perchance?"

"The best," he says, accompanied with a wink. "Are you gonna eat your toast? Cause you have two minutes left..."

"Where the hell did the time go? Damn you, James Potter. Damn you to hell. I could have sworn I had fifteen minutes! Now I'm going to have to eat in class, and Binns is going to kill me, and oh God this day is just getting better and better. Why did I ever have to stay up and listen to you talk about your mother's middle name, of all things?"

"Jeesh, Lils, relax already. Binns isn't going to kill you – in fact, I'll give you five Galleons if he does. And another two if he says something and gets your name right."

"You are so on. Except I'm not giving you anything if I lose. Also, don't call me Lils."

"Naturally, naturally. But why not?"

"Why not what?"

"Why can't I call you Lils?"

"Because my name is Lily."

"But I like Lils," James says, pouting like a sad little puppy.

"I don't."

"Tough, Lils, that's what you're getting. Now, coming?"

"Fine, then. Be a jerk." But nevertheless I get up and laughingly accept the arm he offers me on the way to History of Magic, the most boring class ever to grace the halls of Hogwarts.

–––––

So at this very moment, I honestly have no idea what I think about James Potter. My brain is telling me I still dislike him – I haven't hated him for a while, I don't think, but he's never been on my list of favourite people. Until now, with the Head stuff and all, I've been spending a lot of time with him, and he really isn't half bad. Except when he's keeping me up late, ergo making me oversleep, ergo making my hair look horrid, never mind that he seems to like it. But apart from that, he's actually really fun to be around.

Plus, you know, there's the part where he's actually very easy on the eyes. I never really noticed it before, cause I was too busy hating him, but now that that's past it's certainly caught my notice a few times. Few dozen, more like. I swear, many lessons now I've caught myself staring at his profile, and that really kinda confuses me – cause I can't like James Potter, right? That's just... My brain does not compute. James Potter and Lily Evans is just... no. Just no.

Or so you'd think. And I don't know what to think, which kinda really bothers me. Plus I've heard a bunch of rumours around the school that apparently I'm flirting with him – which, if it's true, must be happening subconsciously, cause I sure as hell don't have a memory of any intentions of that sort. Is it possible to like someone subconsciously? Hmm... the more I think about it, the weirder it seems. Me and James Potter.

Not that any reluctance to this... union would be heard from his part – it's quite common knowledge that James Potter has been craaaazy in love with me since, like, Fourth Year. I myself never set much stock in these rumours, but I can't deny that his behaviour towards me is different than his behaviour to all the other girls – all the busty, blond girls who publicly lust after him and wear their school uniforms as revealingly as possible (looking more street-hookery than sexy) in vain attempts to attract his attention. Vain, since according to the Hogwarts rumour mill, the only girl he wants is me. Which brings me back to 'which is just weird'. Cause it is. And I have a feeling that I should stop obsessing over whether or not I like him and try and concentrate on Binns' lecture on some goblin rebellion or the other (Damn goblins always rebelling against something. Couldn't they just live and let live? Would be much less work for us. Sincerely, every Hogwarts student who's ever had to suffer through a History class.), since it's likely to be on the N.E.W.T. exam. I don't even know why I'm taking the N.E.W.T. class – it's not required for any career, except maybe magical historian, and God knows I'm not going down that road.

I know James is taking this class because his dad insists on it. And I can't deny that I knew he'd be here when I picked this, but that wasn't the main reason... was it? I don't know, and now that I've been obsessing over it for the past half-hour, it's honestly bugging me.

Then James, idiot that he is, turns in his seat (which just so happens to be directly across the room and therefore opposite me) and winks at me. Damn him! My insides go all squiggly, and that's when I kinda have to acknowledge what I've actually probably known for a long time now. Damn it all to hell, I've fallen for James Bloody Potter. Stupid.

–––––

You know that feeling when you like someone and you keep looking for them in crowded rooms and you're really self-conscious when you're interacting with them and so on? It sucks. Cause apparently, acknowledging that I actually like that idiot has made me act like some blithering idiot around him, which is just not good, considering I (used to) pride myself on my conversational skills.

Today, however, those skills were pretty much nonexistent. At lunch, I oh-so-casually sat next to James, hoping he wouldn't notice. I thought I was being sneaky about it, too, until he suddenly turned, looked at me and said (very loudly), "Lils! So you've finally decided you can't resist my plentiful charm?"

Now, a good response would have been "You wish, James," or maybe "In your dreams." Short, sweet and deadly sharp, or something. Instead what came out of my mouth was "Er... something like that, yeah."

His friends, idiots that they are, cheered. I glared. James laughed. What else is new? So all I did was mutter "Shut up," in a tone that may possible have bordered on cross. And now I'm being really awkward while trying to eat as quickly as possible so as to get away; away from public scrutiny (cause now it seems like every eye in the school is watching me 'flirt' with James) and that idiot, idiot boy who has the power to make me feel so weird with a single glance or sentence. Damn him to the deepest pits of hell.

–––––

Now that I've though it once, I can't get rid of the idea that I like him. It's all I can think about, really – I can't concentrate in any classes, cause all that's going through my head is I like James Potter I like James Potter I like James Potter and it's kinda freaking me out. Some of the professors look kinda confused too – Slughorn kept looking at me like one might regard a particularly troubling Arithmancy problem, and McGonagall just went as far as asking me whether I'm quite all right, since I apparently look rather distracted. I assured her that I'm perfectly fine, and then said the first possible cause for distraction that popped into my head: "I just don't quite understand this wand movement, Professor."

Of all the things I could have said, in Transfiguration of all classes, I had to say that I don't get it. Why, God, why? Why couldn't I have thought of something, anything else? Cause of course when I said I didn't get it, McGonagall instantly looks at James, who just so happens to be the best Transfiguration student Hogwarts has seen in a while, at least according to McGonagall. "Mr Potter, do you think you could help Miss Evans with her wand movement? You seem to have managed your own already."

Of course, of bloody course. And do you know what the idiot says? He says, "With pleasure, Professor," and winks at me (He should really stop doing that. It's not good for my stomach). Of frigging course he'd take pleasure in assisting me. And of course McGonagall would ask him. Damn it all.

"So, Lils, what seems to be the problem?" he asks all cheerful as soon as he gets here.

"I can't get my bloody wand to do it right," I grumble. "It looks so easy! And then all I get it this damn squiggle."

"I see, I see," he says, all official-like. For a few seconds, at least. "Want me to show you once?"

"If you would..."

"Hey, anything for Lils, right?"

"Er?"

"Yeah, never mind. Okay, watch..." and he does this really complicated squiggly thing that nevertheless seems to achieve the wanted effect. "Now you try."

Hopelessly, I wave my wand about, but nothing happens.

"Oh, no no no. See, that's all wrong! No wonder nothing happens. Look, you gotta do it like this."

And then do you know what he does? He sets his wand on my desk, pulls me to my feet and makes me stand up. Then he stands behind me, wraps his left arm around my waist (why would he do that? I don't get it. What purpose does it serve?) and puts his right arm on mine, so that we both hold my wand. Yesterday, this wouldn't really have bothered me so much, more than the usual breach-of-personal-bubble crap, but today... today, all I can think is I like James Potter I like James Potter I like James Potterand him pressing himself all up against me really isn't helping. My breathing is all shallow and I'm not concentrating on anything akin to wand movements, but when I open my eyes (when did I even close them?) again, there's a perect potted plant where only a few moments ago, a Flobberworm... did nothing at all, to be precise.

"Got it?" James asks, his mouth right next to my ear. I can feel his warm breath on my neck, and damn if it doesn't nearly make me shiver. This whole liking business is so hard.

"I... uh, I don't know. Maybe?" My voice is breathy. It doesn't sound like my voice. Damn it all, I sound like one of the vapid, blonde street-hookers. Maybe James notices it, cause I'm kinda certain he raises an eyebrow. Damn.

"Want me to show you again then?"

"Er... okay." Yay for Lily and Lily's intelligent conversation, whoop-de-freaking-do!

I swear he laughs a bit. I can feel his chest rumbling. I twist a bit to look at him.

"Oi, quit laughing at me! Not everyone can be Transfiguration gods like you."

"I'm not laughing at you!" he tries, but I'm not buying it.

"Yeah, right."

"Okay, so maybe I am. So what? I may be a Transfiguration god or something, but you're a Charms genius and a Potions whiz and generally rather intelligent, so it's not like you've been left with nothing in the genetic lottery."

All I can manage is a shaky "Oh, ha ha, you're so funny" kinda giggle. It wasn't meant to be a giggle, but somehow that's how it came out.

"I swear!" Apparently, he misunderstood my giggle. I wonder why.

"Whatever. Just show me the thing, kay? Class is almost over and I kinda want to get out of here."

"Wow, bossy Lil? That's new," he says with a chuckle. "But okay, look here..." I turn back to face the same way he is, then he Transfigures the potted plant into a Flobberworm and back, slowly and carefully, talking me through the movements in a soft voice. It's all I can do to concentrate on what the voice is saying and not just its presence, but I think I manage it... at least, when the bell rings a moment later, there is once more a largeish potted plant on my desk.

"Miss Evans, do you understand it now?" McGongall calls, looking over the desks.

"Yes, Professor, thanks." I am not going to say anything positive about James, no sir! But McGonagall gets there before me.

"Wonderful. Thank you, Mr Potter."'

–––––

This evening is something I've been dreading for a while. Well, only since History this morning, but it feels like a while. Because this evening, I'll once more be left alone with James. Oh, bloody buggering hell. I can't go to bed at seven, that'd be suspicious, even for me, so I'll have to spend at least an hour or two with him... damn it. Stupid. Why didn't he schedule Quidditch practise for tonight?'He's always at Quidditch practise, so why not today?

But as much as I don't like to think about it, evening comes and we're sitting in the Head's Common Room – him sprawled on the love seat, me equally sprawled in the huge arm chair next to the fire. He's doing homework, casual as anything – it's like he can't sense that the tension in the room could be cut with a blunt axe.

Then again, why should he notice? It's not like he's aware that anything's changed... damn, damn, damn. I try to concentrate on my Charms essay – Charms, my favourite subject – but it's made impossible by the surreptitious glances I can't stop sneaking at James. I try to write it, I swear I do, but after ten minutes or so I just can't help it. I never meant to say it, least not today, but it just kinda... slips out of my mouth. "James?"

"Mm?" he looks up from his homework, brow furrowed in concentration (glad to see someone can focus. Well, I'm about to put an end to that). Now is the last chance to back out... but I don't take it. Stupid me.

"James, I kinda need to say something, and it's kinda important, but the problem is I don't know how to put this. The thing is, um, that I realised something this morning, and I don't know why I only got it today, cause I sorta have this feeling it's been a long time coming, but anyway... the point was that, er, I kinda, sorta, maybe realised that I like you – don't say anything yet! This whole thing really weirds me out a bit, and I have no idea how to act around you any more and it's just so damn confusing and I didn't want it to happen except it did and now I'm glad it did, but now I have no idea what to do cause you're gaping at me like a fish out of water... now you can say something, say anything, stop my goddamn rambling, kay?"

James' expression throughout my spiel was really something to see. It started out confused, then a grin spread slowly across his face, and his mouth opened, only to close abruptly when I told him not to say anything yet. By the time I finish, he's barely containing his laughter, and I'm just about to turn tail and run (he's laughing at me?) when he spreads his arms and says, "Come here already," grinning like the cat that got the cream. Many creams, actually. And so I get out of my arm chair and shuffle over to the small love seat, basically falling rather ungracefully half on top of him, half next to him. His arms go around me, and mine are possibly somewhere around his neck region. He keeps one arm around my waist (kinda like today in Transfiguration, except totally different – you know) and the other one comes up to cradle my head.

"Oh Lils," he says, and it comes out like a sigh of pleasure. "You know, I like you too. Lots, actually. Does that weird you out?" There's a teasing note in his voice, but I can't reply at that precise moment – I'm too busy simply revelling in the feeling of being in his arms. "By the way, have I ever mentioned I like your hair all messy like this?"

And to think that I thought today was going to be a Very Bad Hair Day, nothing more.


End file.
